Full Circle
by Nikki Ash
Summary: The battle with Voldemort has come full circle. Harry survived, Voldemort is gone... or is he? How can you kill something that was never truly alive to begin with? And how will his friends react when they find out everything they believe is a lie?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: ::to tune of Oscar Meyer Wiener song:: Oh I wish I could say I owned Harry Potter, yes that is what I'd truly love to see, oh I wish I could say I owned Harry Potter, cause everyone would be in love with me! ::POOF! Smoke fills screen for an instant. When the smoke clears, there's a hot dog on the seat where Nikki just sat. Hot dog blinks. Blinks again. Faint "Wrong _song_, you idiots!" is heard.::

Author's Notes: Well, a few mornings ago I was awoken by a song on the radio: "Gravedigger," by Dave Matthews. Not the most pleasant of songs, but it inspired this fic, and especially the first chapter. I'll be putting the lyrics to the songs that inspire me at the bottom of each chapter, in case you want to take a look. Otherwise… I love reviews! 

~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~

Chapter 1

__

Rage

Sounds of fighting everywhere—

__

Pain

—a shout of horror—

__

Hate

—flashes of light—

__

Revenge is sweet/

—smell of blood—

__

/a dish best served cold

—smell of death—

__

Determination

—anguished sobs from the living for the dead—

__

If I have to

—cries of pain—

__

if it comes to that

—spells from every direction—

__

I will go down with you

—hitting friend and foe alike—

__

as long as you go first

"VOLDEMORT!!!"

A low chuckle, from everywhere at once.

"Show yourself, Tom!" Harry ordered, stalking through the battleground at Hogsmeade, wand in one hand, Sword of Gryffindor in the other.

The chuckling morphed into a cackle, directly behind him. Harry whirled, wand at the ready. "I should think it was painfully obvious, my boy, don't you?"

Faced with his mortal enemy for what he swore was the last time, Harry didn't much care to think of a snappy comeback. Instead, he charged, the silver blade glistening like fresh blood in the sunset. 

"What!" —

__

Berserk

—"No!" —

__

Madness

—Cedric—

__

Rushing

—Sirius—

__

Chaos

—Dean—

__

Screams

—Pavarti, Padma—

__

Roaring

—blade slicing through flesh—

__

Resistance

—wet sucking sound—

__

Satisfaction

—blood pouring from the wound—

__

Surprise

—laughter—

__

Fear

—both wands up—

__

Impossible

—Killing Curse from two mouths—

__

Panic

—one overcomes the other—

__

Pain

Painpain

PAINPAINPAINPAIN

—prayers to a god he thought didn't exist—

__

OhmyGodithurtssomuchpainpainagonyhelpmehelpmepleasemyGodanyonejustHELPME!!!

Silence.

Cold.

__

Am I dead?

Hands.

__

Dying?

Words.

__

Mum?

Light.

__

Dad?

Falling.

__

Sirius?

Still.

__

What?

Nothing.

__

Help me

Black.

Sounds—muffled.

Light—bright.

Scent—sharp. Astringent.

Pain—all over.

"Hel..."

"Shh, Harry, rest."

Oblivion.

His eyelids cracked open slowly against the bright lights. _So I'm not dead. _He'd been in that room enough to know it instantly, even without his glasses; the Hospital Wing. He turned his head and cried out in pain.

"Oh!" Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her office to his bed. "Try not to move, Harry, you're still not quite healed."

A raspy chuckle escaped his parched throat. "I noticed. How long was I out?"

"Twelve days. Actually... _Petrificus corpus_. And don't talk, either; save your energy." Harry didn't have the strength to argue. "Oh, you must be thirsty! I'll get you something to drink." He grunted in assent. It wasn't till after she was gone that he noticed something decidedly odd; for the first time in all of his seven years at Hogwarts, she hadn't admonished him for almost getting himself killed. _Wait a moment... _Almost _killed. I'm not dead. But I _heard_ the curse, I know _one_ of them hit..._

"Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey!" he shouted as loud as he could, which wasn't all that loud considering the state of his vocal cords.

"What? What?!" she shrieked as she ran out of her office again, wand at the ready.

"Voldemort! What happened?!" he whisper-shouted.

Pomfrey let out a sigh of relief. "Don't _do_ that, Potter. I thought we were under attack."

"Where is he?" Harry demanded.

She hesitated. "Well... You see... That is..."

"He escaped." Words could not describe the grief he felt, saying those words.

"No! Not at all, no," she hurriedly corrected. Then she re-thought. "Well, not in so many words. You see—"

"Perhaps the explanation ought to be left to me, Poppy?" a tired-sounding Dumbledore asked as he shut the Hospital Wing door.

"Of course, Headmaster." Madame Pomfrey again disappeared into her office.

Slowly, Dumbledore made his way to Harry's bed, the cane he had taken to using clicking loudly on the tiled floor. With a sigh, the aging headmaster lowered himself to sit at the foot of the bed. "Do sit up, won't you, Harry?"

"Can't. Pomfrey petrified me."

"Ah, yes. Versatile charm, that. Useful for any number of things. But, I suppose she _is_ the medi-witch, and we wouldn't want to disturb the healing process."

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully. He had learned long ago that any attempts at hurrying the Headmaster were useless; one simply had to wait him out or subtly remind him that he had been about to say something.

"Ah, yes. You wanted to know what happened to Tom—"

__

"Tom, you mustn't do this!" Dumbledore shouted over the din of battle.

"Oh, I mustn't?" Maniac laughter drowned out all but the harshest screams. "The time has come, old man—_"_

"Harry."

Abruptly Harry's eyes refocused. He would have shaken his head vigorously, if he had been able to move, but instead had to settle for a few rapid eye blinks. "Sorry."

"It's alright, I often find I do that myself. Comes with experience, you see." Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Of course, my experience came when I already had a bit more of it."

"Yes... but Voldemort?"

The headmaster hemmed. "I'm not quite sure how to put this so you won't overreact... So I'll just say it. Voldemort is not dead. His... essence, shall we say, is trapped. He is still technically alive."

A wave of fear swept through Harry's petrified body. "But... The prophecy... 'Neither can live while the other survives.' If he isn't dead, then—"

"Then the battle is not yet over," Dumbledore interrupted. "Patience, my boy. He is trapped—" he reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out with a flourish—"in this.'' He held out a silver ring, every part of it covered in layer upon layer of banishment and trapping spells, the most powerful carved into the ring itself. "Take it."

"I can't. Petrified, remember?"

"Ah, yes, well..." With a wave of his wand, he broke the spell. Harry gingerly eased himself into a sitting position and took the ring in his hands. "It was made by the experts on containment, the Gringott's goblins," Dumbledore explained. ''Many of the professors added their own, specialized spells, as did most of the Order. If necessary, that ring could hold Voldemort for years."

"'If necessary'?" Harry parroted, turning the ring over in his hands.

"Of course. We can't just leave him there; even the strongest wards can be broken, given enough time and determination. Unfortunately, Voldemort now has plenty of both."

"So what do I do?"

Dumbledore had to admit Harry's reaction surprised him. He was expecting a highly agitated response, perhaps a crazy, half-formed plan, not the calm determination exuded by the boy. _Ah, well, _he thought. _Such is the way of a young mind forced to grow old..._ "_You_ don't do anything, Harry, at least not alone. _We_, the professors, members of the Order, ministry officials, and others will be trying to come up with some way to defeat an almost immortal Dark Lord. 

"In the meantime," he said as he levered himself off the hospital bed, "I believe you have some people who are anxious to see you."

Agonizingly slowly, the Headmaster made his way back through the rows of beds. "Professor, wait!" Harry called. "You forgot the ring."

"I didn't forget it, Harry. I'm entrusting you with its safekeeping. After all, who better to guard a dark lord than the man who defeated him twice?"

Harry looked despondently at the ring in his hand. "But... I _didn't_ defeat him, not even once."

"_No,_ Harry. You must never say that again," Dumbledore insisted forcefully. "Everyone believes he is dead, including the few surviving Death Eaters. If word were to get out that he is still alive, who knows what kind of chaos might ensue? No; the fewer people that know of this, the better."

Harry nodded his acquiescence. "But there're some people who've got to know. Ron and Hermione, of course, Neville, Luna, the twins, _all_ of the Weasleys, actually—"

Dumbledore cut Harry off with a laugh. "The entire existence of a secret depends upon not many people knowing it! At any rate, the elder Weasleys already know."

Abashed, Harry revised his list. "Well, then just Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ought to know. After all, they've been in this from the beginning. They deserve—"

__

"—_deserve to die! Anyone disloyal to the Dark Lord will die at his hands!"_

"B-but my lord, they put me under Veritaserum! I-I had no chance!"

"Silence, Draco, and take your punishment like a man!"

"Father, I beg you—_"_

"'Crucio!_"_

Screams fill the abandoned graveyard, cries of unbearable pain shatter the still night. As suddenly as they started, they stop. "The master is here."

"No! NO! No, PLEASE—_"_

Harry gulped. "They should know."

Dumbledore gazed at Harry appraisingly. "Are you quite sure you're alright, Harry?"

He nodded, then winced in pain as the muscles in the back of his neck strained. "I'm fine."

For a moment, it looked as if the aging headmaster might press the point, but thought better of it. "Very well, then. I will let them know you are awake... But I wouldn't mention anything about Voldemort yet."

"Yes, sir, I understand." 

"Good." By this time, Dumbledore had reached the oak door of the infirmary, and rested a hand on the doorknob. "Get well soon, my boy." The instant he turned the knob, a cacophony of voices assaulted him, and he laughed. "Yes, yes, he's fine. Come in, come in!"

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione struggled and shoved through the door, eager to be the first to reach the newly recovered Boy Who Lived. Harry could only watch in amusement as his three best friends roughhoused and teased, all shouting something along the lines of "Harry! You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay, you gits! When am I ever not?"

"When you've got a Potions test you've forgotten about first thing in the morning?" Ron offered helpfully, plopping his lanky frame on the hospital bed beside Harry's.

"When you're diving headfirst at the ground trying to catch the Snitch?" Ginny asked, lounging comfortably in the chair near Harry's head.

"As I recall, you've done quite a lot of that yourself, Miss Weasley," he teased.

"Have not," she replied, indignant. "That was only the one time."

"Harry," Hermione said from his other side. He turned his head without thinking, and immediately regretted it. "Oh, Harry, you're not okay! You should be in a full body-bind, I don't know _what_ Madame Pomfrey was thinking—"

"Honest, Hermione, I'm fine."

"Sure he is," Ron announced, sitting up to make room for her. "Only hurts when you move, isn't that it, mate?"

"Exactly!" _Right_, Harry thought,_ just keep them laughing and I won't have to answer any questions about Voldemort_. 

The diversionary tactic worked for a while, though Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the diversion was going both ways. After a nice dinner, courtesy of Dobby, _Ron_, of all people, announced that he and Hermione had homework that needed doing. Actually, his exact words were, "Uh, 'Mione and I are going to, um, go do some homework... Big test in, er, Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow. See you soon, mate. Bye, Gin."

Exactly .05 seconds after the door shut behind the pair, the remaining two burst into laughter. "They're going to snog, aren't they!" Harry exclaimed.

Ginny, red-faced and gasping for breath, nodded. "He could've at least come up with a decent excuse! Neither of them have taken Care of Magical Creatures since sixth year!" The duo burst into fresh rounds of laughter, but as the last of the giggling died down, an uncomfortable silence settled over them.

"Why don't you tell me what's really wrong, Harry?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Caught off-guard, Harry didn't have time to come up with a decent response. "What makes you think something's wrong?" Inwardly, he winced—it sounded lame even to him. 

Ginny snorted, and counted off on her fingers. "For one, you're acting strangely, almost the way you did last year. For another, every so often, you get this far-away look in your eye, and your reactions make it seem not at all very pleasant. And of course, there's that ring you've been worrying at since we walked in the door." She leaned so close to him that he couldn't look away, hypnotized by her chestnut eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."

As he stared at her, it took all his self-control not to tell her everything, every little injustice he'd suffered since he was a year old. After all, weren't those part of the problem, too? But just before he spilled all of his secrets, Dumbledore's order came back to him and saved him from what would certainly been the most embarrassing moment of his life. "Not yet. When Ron and Hermione come back, I'll tell you all. It's not really something I want to say more than once."

She nodded in understanding, and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Just so long as you tell us. No more of that sixth-year nonsense with the being a prat and all." Harry had to laugh at himself, though a hint of sadness tweaked his stomach, as he recalled his misguided attempt at shielding his friends from further harm by distancing himself from them. In the end, it had only thrown him into the depths of depression, and ended when Moaning Myrtle discovered him in the process of slitting his wrists in the prefects' bathroom and flitted all over the castle shouting for his friends.

"I'm really lucky to have you three, you know," he said, averting his eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't worry, Harry. Things are already better. Voldemort is gone, and—" Harry's face had abruptly closed, and she stopped.

"Can we… not talk about Tom for a while?" he begged, an anguished look on his face. "Just… please, can I be normal for a few minutes?"

Ginny was tempted to remind him that 1) even if he _wasn't_ the Boy Who Lived, he still wouldn't be normal, and 2) normal isn't all it's cracked up to be anyway, but refrained. "D'you want to know how they got together, then?" she asked instead.

"Who, Ron and Hermione? Of course."

"Well," she began, as she settled herself more comfortably in her chair, throwing one leg over the armrest and the other to rest on Harry's bed, "it started the day after… you know… and we were all in here with mi—"

"Wait," he interrupted, "you were in here?! Are you alright, I mean, is everyone okay?"

"_Minor injuries_, I was about to say," she jokingly admonished. "Anyway, Ron was a bit worse off than Hermione or me, because the Great King Prat managed to trip over himself coming up the steps outside and get himself a concussion."

"'Great King Prat'… yes, that does describe him quite well, doesn't it?"

"I'm glad you like it. Now stop interrupting." Instead of answering, he simply motioned her to continue. "Right. So when he got out and back to the remains of the Gryffindor Common Room—" At Harry's startled expression, she stopped. "Oh. You don't know about that. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter. Keep going." 

"Alright. So when he got back to the Common Room, of course Hermione was the first to greet him, because, well, you know. And then she yelled at him for making her worry, and he yelled at her for yelling at him, and everything was normal for about thirty seconds. After that, they weren't yelling anymore."

Harry chuckled. "I can see where this is going."

Ginny nodded happily. "You know it. They weren't yelling anymore because Ron was saying something to her that I couldn't quite hear—" 

"You were _listening_?"

"Of _course_ I was listening. If you were there, you would've, too." Harry nodded, a guilty expression on his face. "Now shut up and let me finish. So while Ron was talking, Hermione was getting all mushy, and after a few minutes they disappeared back out the portrait hole."

"So you didn't _actually_ see them kiss," Harry stated, slightly disappointed.

"Honestly, Harry, have you no faith? Of course I did. I snuck up to your dorm and borrowed your Invisibility Cloak."

"_Did_ you, now?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd mind. You _are_, after all, asking for all the details."

"Yes, alright, that's fair enough. And I suppose you used it for all sorts of other mischief afterwards, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," she answered, affronted. "What kind of Weasley would I be if I didn't?"

"Not much of one," Harry agreed.

They continued their pretense of happiness for another hour, until conversation ran out and Ginny stood to leave. As she drew closer and closer to the door, the overwhelming silence of the Hospital Wing beat heavily on Harry's ears. An irrational but undeniable fear settled over him. He knew it was crazy, but if she left, he wasn't sure he would ever see her again. "Ginny, wait," he called, his voice still raspy from the damage they'd suffered during the battle.

"Yes?" She stopped and turned three steps from the door.

"Gin, you can't… I mean, I don't…" He looked at her pleadingly. "Don't leave me alone."

"Oh, Harry… of course I'll stay." She returned quickly, and took his hand. Unconsciously, she turned it over and stroked the more recent scar that ran from mid-forearm to wrist. 

"I mean, I hate to do this to you, but—"

"Harry," she interrupted. "I'm staying. Remember? I promised you forever, and I meant it."

Ginny could see the effect her words had had on him. The year before, after he had tried to kill himself, she had confronted him in the Common Room.

__

"What were you thinking, you great stupid prat?! Did you honestly think we were going to let you go that easily?" she shouted, unleashing the infamous Weasley temper.

"I was doing it for you!" he shouted back, just as angry. "For all of you! If I'm gone, you're safe! He won't have a reason to hurt you anymore!"

"Safe? Safe_?! If you die, he wins! Automatically! And we're even closer to dying than we are with you here! Because _you_ can beat him! _Only _you!"_

"I know_! Don't you think I know that already? It's driving me crazy, this scar, Voldemort, the war! I can't handle it, don't you understand?!"_

Ginny quieted. "No, Harry, I don't. I don't understand what it's like to be you. But I do understand that you need a friend right now. And I know you've got Ron and Hermione already, but I just want you to know I'm here too. I promise. Forever."

"I remember," Harry told her, his voice soft. "I never thanked you for that, Gin. But it meant a lot to me, just knowing that you'd always be there. Even when it seemed like forever wasn't going to be all that long after all."

Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to make her reappearance. "Visiting hours are over, Miss Weasley, I'll have to ask you to leave." 

The two teens squirmed, knowing that the last thing Harry needed was to be alone. Fortunately, Ginny's quick thinking almost saved them. "Er, well, you see, I'm not feeling all too well. A bout of flu coming on, I think."

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "Well," she said, "a dose of Pepper-Up Potion should set you right."

"No, Madame Pomfrey, that's alright," said Harry. "She's fine. But… d'you think it would be alright if she stayed here tonight?"

The other eyebrow shot up, and she looked pointedly at the space where their hands were clasped. "And just _why_ should I let her do that?"

"Because…" he began. "Because I don't know what I might do if she doesn't." Something in the tone of his voice must have convinced her, because she nodded once.

"That doesn't mean I like it. And you'll need to be petrified again, Mr. Potter. Honestly, who would lift the spell when I obviously put it there for a reason?"

"That would be the Headmaster," answered Harry, distractedly. Her mention of the spell and its removal had reminded him of the ring he still held tightly in his right hand. Before she could petrify him again, he slipped the ring on his middle finger, where it tightened to fit comfortably. 

"Sleep well, Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter. And…" she hesitated, "thank you."

~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~

Gravedigger

Dave Matthews

Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913

Made his great grand children believe you could live to a hundred and three

A hundred and three is forever when you're just a little kid

so Cyrus Jones lived forever

Gravedigger

When you dig my grave

Could you make it shallow

So that I can feel the rain

Gravedigger

Muriel Stonewall 1903 to 1954

She lost both of her babies in the Second Great War

Now you should never have to watch your only children lowered in the ground

I mean you should never have to bury your own babies

Gravedigger

When you dig my grave

Could you make it shallow

So that I can feel the rain 

Gravedigger

Ring around the rosies 

Pocket full of posies

Ashes to ashes

We all fall down

Gravedigger

When you dig my grave

Could you make it shallow

So that I can feel the rain

Gravedigger

Little Mickey Carson '67 to '75

He rode his bike like the devil till the day he died

When he grows up he wants to be Mr. Vertigo on the flying trapeze

Nineteen forty to nineteen ninety.... two

Gravedigger

When you dig my grave

Could you make it shallow

So that I can feel the rain

I can feel the rain

I can feel the rain

Gravedigger

When you dig my grave

Could you make it shallow

So that I can feel the rain

Gravedigger

Gravedigger

Gravedigger

~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~

I LOVE REVIEWS!

Also… would anyone be interested in betaing for me? Let me know in a review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Things I own: one pint-sized attack bird, a duct tape covered notebook that has served various purposes including, but not limited to, ground cover, baseball bat, and umbrella, and a slightly chewed ball-point pen. Things I don _not_ own, but really would like to: a Fender Strat, the Oscar Meyer Weiner song (see previous disclaimer), and, of course, Harry Potter,

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Sarah, reviewer numero uno! AND!!! To my beta reader, Leslie, AKA Punkin; gigantic thanks for all the support! Shameless self-advertising now: if you like what you see here, head over to fiction press.com and check out my original stories, Where Broken Dreams Go and Color Blind. WBDG is a work-in-progress (currently taking a nice long vacation--but hey, if I get a few new reviews, who knows what might happen?), and Color Blind is a stand-alone short story that may or may not continue at a later date. Ok, now I'm done with that… story time!

¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿

Chapter 2

Late that night, almost morning, Ginny woke to a sound. At least, she thought that was what had woken her. Conscious, she heard nothing, but she was certain that she'd heard something. After a few minutes of careful listening passed without a repeat, she decided to go back to sleep. She turned over onto her stomach, and then again a few seconds later to her side. She repeated the procedure half a dozen times before sighing exasperatedly and throwing the covers off. She stormed over to the window, where she laid her forehead against the cool glass. As she looked over the snow-covered ground, moonlit and glowing, she couldn't help but smile. 

The smile turned into a bitter frown, however, when she remembered all the people that would never see that sight again. Pavarti Patil, her sister Padma--they'd been her friends, though both were a year older than she. Dean Thomas, her second boyfriend, even if it hadn't lasted the summer. Moody, crazy as he was, had been one of the first to follow Sirius. Mundugus Fletcher soon joined them. Tonks had been struck blind after a Death Eater's Killing Curse misfired, leaving her sightless and depressed. So many others that she didn't even know had died in that final battle, countless more in the random attacks before it. 

Even Ron had come close, so close to dying. The story she'd told Harry was just that; a story. The three of them, Ron, Hermione, and herself, had been seriously injured as they followed their friend into battle. Hermione was so covered in hex marks by the time they'd gotten her back to the castle she looked like a child's coloring book. The Cruciatus Curse had broken both of Ginny's legs, and she still felt a twinge sometimes as she walked. Ron, however, was the worst off, in her opinion. Sometime during the battle he had been poisoned, but had adamantly refused to return to the castle, insisting that his place was with Harry. When he passed out, someone had dragged him back to Hogwarts, but they were almost too late. Madame Pomfrey had taken one look at him and sent him directly to St. Mungo's. It had been touch-and-go for a while, and Ginny had never been more frightened in her life. She couldn't imagine what her mum must've felt, or Hermione.

Sheets rustled behind her, and she whirled to find Harry standing up. "You're supposed to be petrified," she told him, wiping her eyes and hoping he hadn't noticed her tears.

"I was. She let me out of it a little while ago; said it would help the healing process if I could move around."

"Oh." Ginny turned back to the window, and again leaned against it. Harry stood beside her.

"Look at the moon," he remarked, drawing her attention back to it. A delicate crescent moon graced the sky, stars twinkling brightly all around it. 

"It's beautiful." She sniffed, wiping her eyes again with the sleeve of her nightdress.

"Ginny, you're crying!" he said, voice full of concern. He turned to her, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his state of undress.

"Am not," she denied, gazing firmly straight ahead. "You're wearing boxers."

He looked down at himself. "So I am. Gin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. You're _only_ wearing boxers."

"I hadn't noticed. Don't lie to me, Gin; I can see it in your eyes."

"See what, Harry?" she demanded, finally rounding on him, angry. "That I can't sleep because I heard something a few minutes ago and I can't get that little niggling doubt out of my head that a Death Eater somehow found his way in here and is about to kill us both? That I'm looking out at this beautiful scene and all I see is a battleground? That I'm looking at _you_ and seeing the same haunted look I saw on Lupin, Sirius, Dumbledore, even _me_ when I looked in the mirror this morning?"

Instead of answering, Harry pulled her into a tight hug, and she buried her face into the nape of his neck. "What do I do, Harry?" she asked, her voice muffled. "So many people died that night… Pavarti…. She was dying when I found her. And I couldn't--" a sob broke through her tirade "--I couldn't do anything for her except hold her and try to… try to comfort her, and she told me Padma was already dead so I didn't have to worry about either of them, they were going to be okay, and--"

"Shh, Ginny, it's okay," Harry muttered as he held her shaking frame. "They're all in a better place now, they're… they're in heaven, and you don't need to worry about them." Fresh sobs ripped through her, and Harry realized, belatedly, that he had parroted Pavarti's words to Ginny. "I'm sorry, Gin, I didn't mean to…."

"Shut up, Harry," she ordered through tears. "It's not your fault… it's all Voldemort and his lackeys and I hope they all rot in Hell for the pain they've caused, all this…. Merlin, Harry, Ron died twice on the operating table!" His mouth fell open in shock, but she continued. "That damned poison… they still don't know… there might be side effects."

"You told me--"

"I _know_, Harry," she sobbed, "and I knew I was lying to you but Madame Pomfrey said you couldn't handle that kind of shock yet and I'm sorry, I'm s-_sorry_, I didn't want to--"

He made a shushing sound. "It's alright, I'm not mad." He looked up at the ceiling, pleading. Merlin knew he knew how she felt; after all, wasn't he doing the same thing? One hand buried itself in her soft hair and held her even closer to him.

"And Charlie's unconscious in St. Mungo's," Ginny continued, not even hearing him. "Mum's there, and so's Dad, but he's-he's…." Fresh tears ran down his bare chest, and he couldn't bring himself to ask. Instead, he leaned his cheek against her forehead and made what he hoped were comforting circles on her back with his hand. "And I _can't_ look out there and see anything beautiful 'cause everything's all _wrong_, and I just… I want it all to go _away_!" she finished forcefully.

Harry sighed shakily, holding back tears of his own. "This… this is all my fault, I should've never let you all get involved."

Ginny thought about getting angry with him for blaming himself, but laughed instead. Through the crying, it sounded like a skipping Muggle LP. "You're such a stupid prat, Harry," she told him. 

He nodded. "So I've been told." Against his will, a single teardrop traced its way down his nose and into her hair. He let her continue to cry against him, wishing he could make it better. After a while, her sobs abated, though tears still fell and she sniffed from time to time. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Without further warning, he put one arm behind her knees and lifted her up, just like her father used to.

"Harry, you're hurt--"

__

Just like her to yell at me when she hasn't even finished crying yet. "Quiet, Gin. See, you're already down." Carefully, he set her down and arranged the covers over her. As he turned away, she caught his arm. 

"Harry, please… I-… I don't…."

He looked at her, confused, but realized what she meant when she didn't let go his arm. "Wait one second," he told her, and grabbed a pair of sweatpants Ron had brought down from his trunk. He pulled them on and knotted the drawstring, thinking, _Who knows? Maybe the dreams won't come tonight. Maybe for once I'll get a decent night's sleep._

An hour later as Madame Pomfrey made her rounds, she found one bed unoccupied and another doubly so, but didn't say a word. In fact, she smiled.

The next morning, Harry awoke with Ginny's head on his chest, their arms around each other and their legs entwined. While he had no aversion to it--in fact, he found he quite liked waking up like that--he doubted Ron would see it as the innocent situation it was. Carefully, he disentangled himself from their mutual embrace, smiling as she frowned in her sleep and curled up in the warm spot he'd so recently vacated. He fumbled for his glasses so he could see her clearly, and almost found himself thinking things he ought to have been ashamed of. The sound of a throat being cleared loudly startled him out of even beginning to think them, however.

"I assume, Harry, that there is some explanation for your rather, ah, unconventional sleeping arrangements?"

Harry spun around to find the bright blue eyes of Headmaster Dumbledore fixed in a stern gaze on him. "Professor! I, er… I mean, we just… that is… um…." He gave up. "Don't tell Ron?" he pleaded.

Dumbledore laughed outright. "Do you know, that's the second time today I've heard those words? Granted, the first time, it was 'Don't tell Harry'."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise, but then he, too, laughed. "Who said that? Ron?"

"Now, now, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, wagging a finger. "That would be telling. And if I told, I would be obliged to tell Ron, in turn."

"No, no, that's okay," Harry said quickly. His relationship with Professor Dumbledore had definitely changed over the years, from near idolization in his first few years, to outright hate in his fifth, to nonexistent in his sixth, to mutually respective and friendly in the past few months. He and Ginny were among the few people who hadn't treated him as if he was made of glass after his… incident the year before. Ron and Lupin were the only other ones who had not. Ginny had shouted at him, Ron had trusted him, and Lupin… well, Harry had a suspicion Lupin understood him. Dumbledore had talked to him about it, and then put it completely out of his mind. Suddenly, the unfamiliar glint of silver caught his eye. "Er, Professor," he began, holding up his hand. "When can I tell them?"

Instantly, Dumbledore turned serious. "Well, I suppose the sooner you tell them, the better. If you wish, you may use my office after the ceremony this afternoon."

"Ceremony?" No one had mentioned anything about a ceremony.

The aging headmaster nodded solemnly. "A memorial for all the victims."

"Memorial? But… it's not over."

Dumbledore sighed, looking, for a moment, as old as he was. "I know, Harry. However, the rest of the world does not. We must keep up appearances."

"I don't like this, Professor; I don't like it at all. I really think--" Ginny rolled over and opened her eyes. 

"G'mor'ing," she yawned, her voice still muzzy from sleep. 

"'Morning, Gin," Harry replied, giving Dumbledore a look that clearly said, "We'll finish this later."

"Miss Weasley!" Dumbledore greeted cheerily. "How did you sleep?"

Immediately, Ginny sat up, wide eyes seeking out Harry. _Oh, no, I didn't really… sweatpants. I _did_… oh, I'll never live it down._ She blinked hard, and grimaced when the image didn't change. "Fine," she answered, feeling her face heat up considerably.

"I'm glad to hear that," Dumbledore told her. _Maybe he doesn't know…_. Dumbledore's expression changed. "Well, I must be off. But I think I would like to see the two of you after the ceremony this afternoon." Inwardly, Ginny groaned. _He does…._ She buried her face in her pillow.

"No worries, Gin," Harry said as the headmaster made his way to the door. "He doesn't care."

"How do _you_ know?" she retorted through the pillow. "He'll probably expel us… or worse, write to Mum."

"Just trust me, Gin. It's not what you think it's going to be."

Ginny shot him a doubtful look. "Fine. I'm going back to the tower to get dressed. See you at breakfast." She threw on a robe and hurried to the door, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one was there.

When the door swung firmly shut behind her, Harry collapsed on his bed. Letting out a frustrated cry, he put his palms to his forehead. _How_ was he supposed to tell them that Voldemort now inhabited the tiny silver ring he wore on his finger? He stared up at the white ceiling and waited for the answers to rain down.

Ginny hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, or rather, what _would_ be Gryffindor Tower again once the construction wizards finished rebuilding the entire south wall and most of the west. Right now, it was more like Gryffindor Sunroom. She _hoped_ she could make it back before Kelly and Rachel, two of her dorm mates and her best friends, woke up and found her bed empty. Unfortunately, Fate was against her, as usual. 

__

Honestly, she thought as she spotted her friends sitting in a corner, obviously waiting for her, and looking quite pleased. _Can't I _ever_ get a break?_ Deciding she couldn't put off the inevitable, she made her way over to them. They didn't waste a second.

"Oh, look who it is, Rachel!" Kelly began. "It's little miss I'm-going-to-stay-out-all-night-and-not-tell-my-friends-where-I'm-going!"

"Honestly, Gin, you ought've at least told _me_. I could've told you all the really good places to go."

"You're not supposed to _encourage_ her, Rach. One of us has got to stay innocent," Kelly admonished. 

"I can't believe you two!" Ginny cried, incredulous. "You think I was out with some _guy_?!"

"Alright, then," Rachel said. "Where _were_ you?"

"In the Hospital Wing," she answered self-righteously.

"Why, you sick?" Kelly asked.

"No. Harry woke up."

Rachel smirked. "And that required you to be there all night?"

"I thought you said you _weren't_ with a guy," added Kelly. 

"_Honestly_, you two! It's _Harry_, for Merlin's sake!"

"Yes, it's Harry," Rachel agreed. "Harry with the gorgeous green eyes."

"Harry with the tousled black hair," Kelly added.

"Harry with the troubled hero look."

"Harry with the Quidditch muscles."

"The mysterious past."

"That voice."

"Those lips."

"Those hands."

Ginny blushed furiously, and shook her head. Sometimes those two acted so much like the twins she was tempted to tell Mum on them, although none of the three was related. "_Stop_ it, you two! It's just Harry!"

"Oho, I do believe we've struck a nerve, Kel!"

"I think we have, Rach. Gin's getting defensive!"

"Am not!" The other two laughed. "Alright, I walked into that one."

"Certainly did," Kelly quipped. "So really, Gin, why _were_ you in the Hospital Wing all night?"

__

Why? Good question. "He's my friend. He needed m--oh, no, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?" At the first mention of "need," both Kelly and Rachel had perked up. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

"_Needed_ you, eh?" Rachel asked, nudging Ginny with her elbow.

"Is that what they're calling it these days? Really, all these code names are getting ridiculous. Nick and I just call it sex," Kelly stated, shrugging.

"You stop! We just talked, really," Ginny insisted, wishing profusely that the Weasley blush hadn't affected _all_ the Weasleys.

"Uh huh. Then _why_," Rachel began, and Ginny's stomach sank, "did my little sister tell me this morning that when she went to get a Pepper-Up Potion from Madame Pomfrey earlier, you and Harry were _asleep_, in the _same bed_, with your arms _wrapped around each other_?"

She hadn't known there was a color redder than tomato, but Ginny certainly reached it as Rachel finished. "We _were_ talking, and fell asleep, and it really isn't as tawdry as you're making it sound--"

"Then how come you were both _smiling_?"

There was a color even _redder_ than the last, and a small part of Ginny's mind wondered if she wasn't going closer to purple by that point. It was clear her friends were going to have a good laugh at her expense for a while. Why not have one of her own? "Fine. If you _must_ know--"

"We must, we must!" they chorused.

"--Harry and I were having wild, desperate, animalistic sex in the Hospital W--"

"WHAT?!" Ron's disbelieving shout sounded from behind her.

__

Oh, bugger. "Now Ron," she began, turning around, "I don't know what you heard, but none of it's true, just my _good friends_--" she shot them a nasty look "--having a laugh at my expense."

"WHAT?!"

"I hate you both right now, you do know that," she told the giggling Rachel and Kelly. "Now fix him."

Instead of responding, they continued with their hysterics. She shook her head and headed up towards the girls' dormitory. 

"GINNY WEASLEY YOU GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN!!!" her older brother shouted at her.

"Talk to them, they made it all up!" she yelled over her shoulder. As quickly as humanly possible, she retreated up the dormitory stairs, thankful that the Founders had had the foresight to keep raging older brothers out of the girls' dorm.

Hours later, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione stood, along with the rest of the school and much of the surrounding population, where Honeydukes, Zonko's, and a good portion of the rest of Hogsmeade had once stood. Dumbledore and a number of Ministry officials, including Bill and Fleur Weasley, sat on a raised platform around which everyone had crowded. Dumbledore stood, and instantly, the crowd silenced. 

"I would first like to welcome you all here, and express my sincerest condolences to any and all of you who lost family or friends to this war. There are far, far too many of you. I would also like…." He cleared his throat. "Well, 'like' is really not the case. In fact, I very much would _not_ like to do what I am about to. But he asked to speak, and who am I to refuse? I therefore introduce you to someone… someone who by all reason should not have had the chance to become what he is right now. Ladies and--" he choked, but continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, Dean Thomas."

A whisper went up from the crowd as word to spread to those who didn't already know who he was. Quiet crying could be heard here and there throughout the student population. Hesitantly, the ghostly form of Dean stepped on the stage. "Hi," he began uncertainly. He searched he crowd for a familiar face, and found many. "Seamus, mate, why're you--… what're you doing that for? I'm--I'm not…" his fake smile faltered. "I mean, I'm not g--… I mean… I… oh, bugger it. I didn't _mean _to!" All traces of a smile were gone, and it looked as if he was about to start crying. Sobs could be heard in the area Harry knew Seamus was, and he couldn't blame him in the least. If that had been Ron up there, he didn't know what he'd do. Hermione and Ginny both held back tears, and Ron stared fixedly at the ground.

"Seamus, I--just stop, alright! I've got to say some things." He took a breath. "For those of you who haven't heard, I was… well, I guess I was the first… casualty… in the final battle. Voldemort… see, he had me killed, 'cause I was Muggle-born." A look of confusion passed over his face. "I _was_… **_was_**. Merlin… I just realized how weird it is… to refer to myself in the past tense…. I can't do this!" He looked pleadingly at Dumbledore, who gave him a reassuring, if watery, smile. Dean waited another moment, wondering if he really had to continue, but decided he did.

"I, ah… I stuck around, 'cause there's some things really need to be said. First off, I want to thank you all, on behalf of everyone who… went before me… and after me. I mean, it really means a lot to me that you're all here, and I know it's not just for me but for them too… and… well, thanks. I mean, everyone else is what makes life worth living, right?" Dean cleared his throat and swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this stuff… Seamus, man, stop cr-- stop crying! You're making me--" 

He stopped again. After taking a few seconds to collect himself, he continued. "Look. You've got to stop crying, all of you. It's… it's no good concentrating on the bad stuff. You've got to see what you have. You've got--gotta live life to the fullest, right? Carpe diem and all that crap? But it's _not_…. It's _not_ crap. It's about as true as you get. I mean, there's noth… nothing I wouldn't give to be out there with you right now, crying for all the _other_ people that died. But I'm not. I'm… I'm here. And I'm _telling_ you, and God knows I know from experience--" he laughed desperately "--one minute everything's fine and the next second you're dead. And I'm not saying that you shouldn't be sorry, shouldn't be sad, 'cause for God's sake you're _human_…. I'm saying you gotta… you gotta _remember_ us, you gotta remember us well, but--but let us go, when the time comes. Treasure the memories, but… don't drown in them. Don't be bitter, don't be mad. God, the _last_ thing we want is for you to be mad. What we want… what we want is for you to be happy, for you to live the lives you're given, so when you join us you've got plenty of stories to tell. Okay?

"So Seamus… go find Lavender and the rest, get roaring drunk, tear up the bar and pretend you don't remember it in the morning. Drink one for me, mate. But… only one." 

He cleared his throat a final time. "Before I go, I just want to say… one more thing. It's been good… real good. Everything. And, ah… and I'll see you all in a while. But not for a good long time, alright? You hear me, mate?" Somewhere in the crowd, Seamus nodded. "Not for a long time." With that, Dean waved sadly, and a bright light emanated from his chest. It grew brighter and brighter, pulsing like a heartbeat. When the light faded, Dean was gone, and there wasn't a dry eye to be found. 

Ginny tore her eyes from where they'd been fastened on Neville's coattails, and looked up at Ron. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, and the sobs she'd been holding in since Dean stood up escaped. They felt two more pairs of arms encircling them, and welcomed them into the embrace. The four best friends clung to each other for support, each offering and receiving comfort from the others. 

__

The day dawned overcast and cold, not uncommon for mid-winter. The weather failed to dampen the spirits of the third-years and up, however; it was a Hogsmeade weekend, the first since before Christmas break. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry met in the Common Room as usual, and headed out.

Lunchtime found the foursome around a table at the Three Broomsticks, sipping contentedly on Butterbeers, enjoying their freedom. A bird--hawk, maybe?--screeched in the distance. No one remarked on it, if they even heard. Harry caught Ginny's eyes and looked pointedly at the other two, who were in the middle of another row over studying for the N.E.W.T.s. 

Muffled shouting could be heard outside, but the village was full of energetic youths. "May… keen… theater… lay… mean… eater… they… Dean… Death Eater! DEATH EATERS!! THEY KILLED DEAN!!! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE SOMEONE **HELP**_!!!"_

Instantly, the four were on their feet, already headed towards the door. It slammed open, revealing chaos in the streets. Half the town was heading towards the screaming, the other half away, towards Hogwarts and safety. 

Harry forced himself back to the present, and found himself staring into Ron's clear blue eyes. "All right, mate?" Ron asked, concern edging his voice.

"Sure. Fine. You?"

"Yeah." For a moment, it looked like Ron was about to say more, but hesitated.

"Look, Ron--"

"Harry--"

Both stopped, waiting for the other to go on. Finally, Harry took the initiative. "Look. When you get back to the castle, I've got to talk to you about something. All of you," he amended, looking at the girls. "Meet me in Dumbledore's office. I'm going back now."

"We'll come," Hermione said. "You can tell us on the way."

"That's alright," Harry refused, shaking his head. "You should stay. I've got to do some thinking."

"Harry--"

"No, Hermione. Please, just give me a few minutes," he begged.

When it looked like she might protest more, Ron laid a hand on her shoulder. Harry shot him a thankful look. "Just a bit. I promise." He turned away and started making his way back to the castle.

The remaining three exchanged looks. Hermione worried, Ron sympathized, and Ginny wondered. Ron wasn't about to let him get away with it, though. "Ginny, go with him."

"Why me?" she asked, surprised. She had actually expected him to try to keep them away from each other, since the little misunderstanding that morning.

"Just go, Gin."

She nodded, and followed. Hermione gave Ron a look. "What're you doing?" she asked.

"He can't say 'no' to her. He listens to her." Hermione gaped at him. "What? Haven't you seen it? They've got a totally different relationship than anyone else."

"Well, yes," she spluttered, "I just didn't think…."

"Didn't think I'd be alright with it?" Hermione could only nod, embarrassed. "This morning was a little different. And anyway… dying does weird things to you."

"Ron, I--"

"No worries, 'Mione. Two weeks ago, I'd've been insulted. Now, the little things don't bother me."

"You scare me sometimes, Ron."

"I scare me too, 'Mione."

Ten steps from the edge of the crowd, Harry felt a delicate hand slipping into his own. He didn't have to look over to know it was Ginny. "I need to think," he announced.

"I'm not saying anything," she replied. 

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you."

"Not yet, Harry."

He reflected on that. "Thank you." They continued to walk in silence for a while. "I don't know what to do."

"We'll figure it out."

"…" _I love you._

"We will, you know. We always do."

"You don't even know the situation yet."

"Don't have to. It'll work out."

He shook his head. "I don't have that optimism."

"Harry, look at me," she ordered, stopping. He stopped, but stared obstinately at the area above her left shoulder. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, guided his eyes to hers. "Listen. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as what you've already been through. You're strong, Harry, stronger than any other man I know. Merlin, you'll outlive the cockroaches."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Didn't think I knew that, did you? Oh, the things I've learned from my… my father."

"Ginny, what's wrong with your father?" He reached up and grasped the hand she had forgotten on his cheek.

She looked away. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Just out of hearing distance and out of their direct line of vision, Hermione and Ron watched the scene unfold. To an outsider, it looked like a tender moment between a loving couple. Ron and Hermione, however, saw it as it was--a deep friendship born of desperation and mutual experiences, growing into something entirely inexplicable and utterly awe-inspiring.

"Gin, tell me." 

"I can't, Harry… I don't even want to think…." She looked abruptly away, reclaimed her hand from his cheek, and rubbed savagely at her eyes with it. 

"Ginny--"

"_Please_. _Don't_ ask me to say it."

He gaped at her. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"Hey, you great prat, what're you doing to my sister?" Ron called jokingly, as he and Hermione caught up to the younger pair. 

"Shut up, Ron," ordered two female voices, one thick, the other bored with long practice.

"Oy, what's this? _Two_ of them after me? C'mon, Harry, give a hand!"

"You forgot to give him a good whack, Hermione. You're slacking," Harry reproached.

"Hey!"

"For that, I ought to hit you both."

__

Don't anyone remember why we're here….

"That won't do anything, 'Mione. If you really want to make an impression, you've got to give them a good kick."

Both boys blanched at that. "What'd we do to deserve _that_, I ask!" shouted Ron, giving Ginny a wide-eyed stare.

__

"What'd he ever do to you?" Harry screamed to the wind.

Nothing, dear boy, nothing,_ a voice hissed. _Just as you did nothing to weaken me all those years ago. He was simply born… as were you. And while there is certainly no _justice_ in any of this… well, I ceased to be a just man many, many years ago.

__

"You were never a man! You're just a snake, you bastard."

The voice chuckled. Why, thank you. I don't believe I've ever been so complimented in my existence.

__

"That wasn't a compliment, Tom!" Harry shook with rage, the brilliant silver blade in his fist catching the last yellow rays of the sun.

I know…

"Harry?"

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"You coming?" 

"Of course." The four set off back to Hogwarts, pretending nothing was wrong, knowing everything was.

¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿

Eve 6

Girlfriend

You're really gone

Girlfriend

The dryer's on

Amen

And I'm alone

For the first time

(I'm on the wayside)

You left a sock

Girlfriend

Where's the pair?

Broken

Are you aware

That I'm missing you

(I'm on the wayside)

But I can't run to you no more

To catch me when I'm fallin'

I know I have to let you go

But I will not be broken

And keep the slowly fading memories

This place is strange

Empty

You did your time

Time plenty

And the walls are bare

Where your pictures hung

(I'm on the wayside)

But I can't call you up on more

And no we can't just be friends

I know it's time to let you go

But I will not be broken

For every tear, a lesson learned

Every good time golden

But now it's time to let you go

And I will not be broken

But keep the slowly fading memories


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Whew, sorry bout the wait, guys. It's been, what, a month? School, job, a boyfriend… actually, two, but you don't want to hear that. Suffice it to say that this has been a very odd, very trying time, and I sincerely apologize for the extreme wait. HOWEVER, there is something _you _can do to encourage me to write faster. Remember that cute little button at the bottom of the page, the one right next to the thing that says "Submit Review"? Uh-huh. As soon as you finish reading this chapter, I want you to press that and drop me a line, even if it's just "hey, cool!" or "hey, crap!". I really hoped I wouldn't have to stoop to this, but… here's the ultimatum. Unless I get five reviews on this chapter, you don't get the next one. And I don't think you'll like me for that…

Disclaimer: ::beep:: We're sorry, but the author was to lazy to come up with a witty disclaimer for this chapter. This is her answering machine. AND REFRIGERATOR! Yes, and the refrigerator. We're supposed to tell you that Nikki does not own Harry Potter or any related paraphernalia--YES SHE DOES YES SHE DOES SHE BOUGHT IT WITH HER BIRTHDAY MONEY--No, she didn't, ice-cream-for-brains. Nor does she claim any responsibility for the impending destruction of said refrigerator and subsequent large amounts of food on the kitchen floor. For that, I claim all responsibility. Thank you. G'BYE!!! SEE YOU LATER!!! I'LL MIS--::long, ululating beep not unlike a war cry, followed by many loud crashes and electrical shorts, and finally, silence.::

¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿

Chapter 3

Their footsteps echoed strangely in the empty halls of Hogwarts. Everyone was still in Hogsmeade, the memorial service still on. Much of the southwest portion of the castle was destroyed, where repeated Crushing Hexes had broken through the castle's defenses and opened the way for invading Death Eaters. The horrific sound the stone walls had made as they fell still echoed in Harry's ears, and the screams of those behind the walls haunted his dreams. He shuddered as he looked away from the mounds of rubble. 

Silently, they made their way to Dumbledore's office. They waved at Nearly Headless Nick as he floated by; he nodded absently in response, preoccupied in his search for the Gray Lady. She'd been missing since the battle. 

The gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office sat where it always had, barring the way to the Headmaster's private office unless one had the password. "Paix," whispered Harry, not to keep it from his friends, but because it didn't feel right to make much noise in this empty temple of learning. The gargoyle leapt aside, allowing the quartet entry into the moving stair. Harry half-smiled as he remembered his first trip up these stairs, so many years before. The stairs came to an abrupt halt, however, and whatever fond memories he had been about to relive were pushed aside to make room for his current task. 

Dumbledore's office was furnished much like it always was, esoteric whosits and whatsits scattered randomly about, magical paraphernalia lining the shelves, and portraits of slumbering previous headmasters on the walls. The Sword of Gryffindor, cleaned and freshly honed, was mounted on a plaque above the Headmaster's desk. Harry couldn't look at it. "Sit," he offered his friends, his mouth dry. He rubbed his sweaty palms together, though it was quite cool in the office. "There's something you all have to know… about Voldemort." Absently, he turned the ring on his middle finger. 

"You see…" he paused, and looked at each of them in turn. "Ron, Hermione, Gin, I really don't know how to say this. You're not going to like it at all."

"Well, just—"

"Ron." Three voices cut him off, and Hermione placed a quieting hand on his arm. 

"Right," Harry continued. "See… during the battle, I hit him with the Killing Curse. Only he had the same protection I have, because he used my blood to resurrect himself. So the Curse couldn't kill him, only incapacitate him for a while, like it did me. I don't know what they did, but…. I guess they must've extracted his essence, or something… and put it in here." He took off the ring and held it out to them. They didn't take it, just stared at it. 

"He's… not dead, then." Ron gulped, shrinking away from the proffered band.

"No," Harry answered shortly.

"But he's trapped, right?" asked Ginny, eyes wide with fear.

"Of course he is," answered Hermione. "I recognize those marks from Ancient Runes. That's about the most powerful trapping charm there is, and it's carved into… mythril, right?" She looked up at Harry for confirmation.

"I don't know. Dumbledore didn't tell me much beyond the fact that he's trapped here, and we have to find a way to kill him for good."

"Harry, the prophecy…" Ginny trailed off.

"It only means that the war isn't over. We've still got work to do."

Ron sputtered. "I don't—I mean, why'd they go through all the trouble to trap him? Couldn't they just kill him?"

"I'm the only one who can. They had to figure out a way to keep him out of trouble while we found a way to kill him. I suppose this is the best they could come up with on such short notice."

"So… we don't actually know what to do with him, then, do we?"

Harry sighed. "No."

"Oh." An oppressive silence settled over the group, as each began to explore the implications and possible ramifications of Harry's statement. No one looked at anyone else; Harry spun his ring fiercely, hoping Voldemort could feel it and was getting very dizzy, Ginny stared blankly out the window, Hermione examined her hands, and Ron traced the grain of the wood on his armrest. Abruptly, Ron's head snapped up. "The veil!—"

__

—Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second…. But Sirius did not reappear. "SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"It's too late, Harry—"

"We can still reach him—"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing…. He's gone."

"We can throw it through the veil in the Department of Mysteries!" 

A part of Harry was sickened by the idea; trap his godfather and his archenemy in the same place for all eternity? How could he even think it? The rest of him was forced to realize that the suggestion was quite a good one. They didn't understand the mechanics of the veil, but they knew that whatever passed it died instantly. "Great idea, Ron. I'll ask Dumbledore about it when he gets back."

Almost instantly, the air in the Headmaster's office relaxed. Ginny and Hermione fell to talking about Ancient Runes, and Harry didn't bother even trying to listen in as he sat comfortably in the Headmaster's chair. Ron wandered around the room, examining all the knickknacks Dumbledore had collected over the years. Harry couldn't help but cringe with guilt at the destruction he'd caused two years before. He had smashed countless irreplaceable items, and yet Dumbledore never tried to stop him. He hoped that someday he might be as caring and understanding as the aged Headmaster.

"Yeowch!" Ron exclaimed.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"That thing bit me!" He pointed at a normal-looking quill. The feather split into what was unmistakably a grin.

"Well, you should know better than to go touching things that don't belong to you," she admonished patiently.

"Well, they should know better than to bite me when I'm just looking!" He glared at the quill, which grinned even wider. 

Harry watched it all with amusement, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Voldemort was as good as gone, finally. Hermione stood up to join Ron, and he wrapped an arm around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Harry truly smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. He met Ginny's eyes and found a grin on her face, too. He nodded in the direction of Ron and Hermione, and rolled his eyes. Ginny nodded vigorously. 

Harry stood to stretch—his muscles were still tight from the Avada Kedavra curse—but instead of sitting back down, he made his way to Ginny Weasley. He sat in the seat recently vacated by Ron and leaned over to her. "So how long d'you think it'll take them?"

"To what, get married or have kids?"

"Both."

"Oh, I'd say about a year to get married. Eight months later is the first kid."

"Eight?"

Ginny shot him a look that clearly expressed what she meant. "Yes. Eight."

"What's all this about eight?" Ron asked from the other side of the room.

Harry and Ginny snickered. "Nothing, Ron," Harry answered in the most innocent voice he could muster—not that convincing, really, but already Ron wasn't paying them any attention. 

For another hour, they stayed in Dumbledore's office, secure in the belief that nothing could touch them. For another hour, they were four teens finally released from the pressures of a heartless world that thrived on ironies. For another hour, they were wrong.

"No."

Harry's disbelief was evident on his face. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no, Harry, the veil will not solve our problem." Dumbledore looked away, almost as if he were ashamed to answer.

"But Headmaster, it… I mean, anything that crosses it dies, doesn't it?" Harry was growing desperate.

"Anything _alive_ dies instantly, yes. But Voldemort is neither alive nor dead, now. His soul is so twisted, so foul, that nothing short of divine intervention could destroy him right now. Alas, the gods abandoned us millennia ago. The Killing Curse could have killed him—"

"No it couldn't." Harry's voice shook. He'd _tried_ it, it hadn't worked.

"Yes, Harry, it could have, if you believed it would. It's just like the Cruciatus—you must truly want it to work, you must _want _him dead, if the curse is to kill."

"But I _did_, I—"

"No, Harry. You believed he was protected, by the blood he took from you. He was not; the protection your mother gave you has nothing to do with blood, and everything to do with _whom_ the spell was meant for. Unfortunately, you believed Voldemort could not be killed by the Killing Curse. Therefore, you could not kill him."

"I don't understand, Professor," pleaded Hermione, looking as if she really did but didn't want to believe it.

"We must first bring him back into the world of the living, before he can be killed."

"But that would make him immortal!" shouted Ron.

"No, Ron. Quite the opposite, in fact. You see, right now, he is neither living nor dead. Thus, he cannot be killed. A living thing can be killed. A dead thing can be sent back. Voldemort, as neither, is about as immortal as he is going to get. However, if we bring him back, give him a body, a curse, poison, or a simple blade can kill him quite easily. The trick is containing him until such a thing is possible, and controlling him once he is alive. And, of course, keeping it secret."

"Why secret, Professor? Shouldn't everyone know there's a chance he might come back?"

"Ms. Weasley, do you remember your fifth year?" he asked, his voice cracking with age.

"Ye-es," she answered hesitantly.

"So you remember the panic everyone felt?" She nodded, and he continued. "We are trying to prevent that, if at all possible. We certainly have not caught all of Voldemort's Death Eaters. If word were to get out that he were still 'alive', I sincerely doubt we would ever get any rest. They would be coming at us from all sides, and I, for one, don't think we could handle much more of this outright war."

"But… so what you're saying is, we're no closer to beating him than we were sixteen years ago."

"I'm leaving," Harry announced, standing.

"Harry—" Ginny started, but he was already halfway out the door.

"No, Mr. Weasley, we are _much_ closer to beating him than we were the first time. He is trapped—"

"But for how _long_?"

"Ron," Hermione admonished, laying a quieting hand on his shoulder.

"He really is leaving, you know!" Ginny announced, perturbed, as she watched Harry's retreating form.

"Quite alright, Ms. Granger, it's a valid question."

"Right." Ginny stood and jogged after him. The moving stair with Harry on it was already halfway down, so she waited impatiently at the top. When it returned, she hopped on it immediately, and wished it could move faster. She jumped the last few feet and hardly waited for the gargoyle to move before rushing out into the hall. "Harry!" she called, not seeing him anywhere in the hallway. "Damn it, Harry, come—"

__

"—back!" 

Harry ignored her, continued determinedly to the hill that overlooked Hogsmeade. He was afraid to look back at her, she was afraid to chase him. That instantaneous lack of concentration cost her dearly. "CRUCIO_!" shouted a Death Eater. She screamed._

"Ginny!"

"Harry? Where are you?" Worry tinged her voice—something in his cry frightened her.

He shook his head angrily; he hadn't meant to call attention to himself, but the memories were painful, and so realistic sometimes. "In here." He opened the door to the empty classroom he had sought refuge in, willing his voice back to normal. She examined him closely as she entered; he limped away to lean on a desk.

"What was that all about?"

He shrugged. "Leg seized up. Side effect from the curse, I guess."

"Not that. The screaming."

"Oh. That." He sighed. "Flashbacks."

"You get them, too?"

Harry nodded, his black hair flopping over his forehead. They stood in silence, Ginny at the door, Harry resting most of his weight on the dusty school desk "You know," he said after a moment, "for a while there, I thought we were done. I was… ecstatic. And then good old Dumbledore… 'No.' I can always count on him, no matter how bad it seems, to make things worse."

"Harry, you can't blame him—"

"I don't. I don't blame him for any of this. I blame _myself_ for believing it could be so easy. It's never that easy. Never." His fists clenched, and the nearest five desks shook. "I just want to be _done_, Gin." 

"Harry, it's alright—" 

"It's _not_ alright, Ginny! It _won't_ be alright until he's gone and _I don't know if I can kill him again_!"

"Harry, you won't have to," she replied, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. She walked to him, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Dumbledore can do it, he said Tom could be killed easily. Let him take care of it, he knows what he's doing. He defeated Grindlewald, he's got experience in this sort of thing."

"Experience." Harry spat the word, as if it left a vile taste in his mouth. "I hate experience. It's just another word for _pain_."

"Then go! Australia, America, China, _anywhere_! We can disappear, hide so no one will ever find us. We can just _go_."

"I _CAN'T_!" he roared, throwing off her hand. Her eyes widened in surprise; in all the years she'd known him, Harry had never shouted at her like that. "I can't," he repeated, almost whispering. "That stupid prophecy…. If he ever escaped, if Dumbledore couldn't do it… it would be _my fault_."

"Don't you dare think this is your fault," she snapped, Weasley temper flaring suddenly into life.

"How is it not?" he shot back, angry. "Everything! It's _all my fault_! My parents, Cedric, Sirius, Moody, Gus, Dean, Padma, Pavarti, _every single person that died, ALL ON MY SOUL_!"

"Harry James Potter!" Ginny shouted. "If you think for _one moment_ that _any_ of that is your fault, you are so severely mistaken it's a wonder you managed to pass first year!" He started to speak, but she cast a silencing charm on him. "_No_. You _will_ listen to me, and you will _look at me _while I am speaking to you!" A small, detached part of herself marveled at how much she sounded like her mother as Harry's unchecked power pushed the surrounding desks away. "You saved _me_ when we were twelve years old. You _risked your life_ for a girl you hardly knew, for a little girl who was stupid enough to trust an enchanted diary. And I _know_, Harry, because I know _you_, if there was any way you could've saved them from dying, you would've. You would've given your life a thousand times over. But Voldemort took them away. Blame _him_. 

"And before you say anything about it being your fault he's back, remember it's because of you that he was gone in the first place! If it wasn't for you, Cedric, Sirius, and Pavarti would _still_ be dead because Tom would've killed them. _I_ would be dead. _Ron_ would be dead. _Hermione_ would be dead. So many thousands more would be dead, but they're _not_, because _you lived_! And… Merlin, Harry, if you hadn't… where would I be without my best friend?" Ginny didn't like to think of that; it made her stomach churn and her heart hurt. 

Harry must have seen something in her eyes, because he straightened abruptly and pulled her into a reassuring hug. "_Finite Incantem. _I'm sorry, Harry," she mumbled into his chest. "I didn't mean to yell. It's just… sometimes I don't think you remember how much you mean to me." _That _WASN'T_ what I meant to--! _

"Ginny," he whispered huskily, "I'm not going anywhere. You're my rock, Gin, you keep me sane." Almost absently, he traced her jaw with a callused finger. "I couldn't—"

The door burst open. "Hey Gi—_oh_." Rachel stopped, stunned, and Harry and Ginny sprang apart. "Ron said you'd gone after him, but I didn't think he meant you went _after_ him."

"RACHEL!"

"Hello, Rach. I'm guessing Ron sent you to find us?"

"Yes, actually. He said, 'If my little sister is quite done knocking some sense into my best friend, we've still got some things to talk about with Dumbledore.' What things?"

"Nothing important, really, just some guardianship business and arranging to stay at the Weasley's this summer," Harry lied smoothly. "Bunches of legal stuff and signing papers. You're welcome to come if you like."

"No, thanks, that's alright," Rachel declined hurriedly. "But why would you have to knock sense into him, Ginny?"

"He refused to take his godfather's house, that's all. It's settled, now."

"Godfather as in Sirius Black?"

Ginny couldn't help but catch the way Harry's eyes dropped when his godfather was mentioned. "The same."

Rachel nodded, and Ginny interjected briskly, "Well, I suppose we ought to get back there. Don't want to make Ron sit through too much more of that."

"Right. See you later, Rachel," Harry said, gliding to the door and gently pulling Ginny with him. 

Rachel nodded in agreement, and watched amusedly as the pair disappeared up the Headmaster's stairs. She meandered in the opposite direction, towards the tower she had re-named Gryffindor Sunroom, in no particular hurry to get anywhere. Classes were cancelled due to the amazingly large hole in most of the classrooms, so there was no homework to do--not that she would have, anyway, but it would have given her a reason to do nothing. At any rate, she was entirely unprepared for the forceful blow to the back of her head that sent her unconscious form to the floor.

¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿

A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Coldplay**_  
_**  
He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down  
I'm gonna put it six feet underground  
He said "I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall  
Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls  
  
Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire  
Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires  
Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn  
Do back the things it did to you in return  
  
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah...  
  
He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war  
If you can tell me something worth fighting for  
Oh and I'm gonna buy this place that's what I said  
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head  
  
Honey  
All the movements you're starting to make  
See me crumble and fall on my face  
And I know the mistakes that I made  
See it all disappear without a trace.  
And they call as they beckon you on  
They said start as you mean to go on  
Start as you mean to go on_  
_  
He said "I'm gonna buy this place and see it go  
Stand here beside my baby, watch the orange glow  
Some will laugh and some just sit and cry  
But you just sit down there and you wonder why  
  
So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war  
If you can tell me something worth fighting for  
And I'm gonna buy this place that's what I said  
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head  
Oh to the head  
  
Honey  
All the movements you're starting to make  
See me crumble and fall on my face  
And I know the mistakes that I made  
See it all disappear without a trace.  
And they call as they beckon you on  
They said start as you mean to go on  
As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on  
  
So meet me by the bridge,  
Oh meet me by the lane  
When am I going to see  
That pretty face again

Meet me on the road  
Meet me where I said  
Blame it all upon  
A rush of blood to the head

¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿~¿

Thanks again to Punkin, AKA Leslie, my beta, and crazy-manga-girl, my one and only reviewer for Chapter 2. I'm glad you enjoyed it, that's what I'm here for. Don't forget, everyone else… 5 reviews or no Chapter 4. Oh, and that little bit in there you recognized can be found on page 806 of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, by the wonderful J.K. Rowling.


End file.
